


Night Eyes and the Braided Boy

by kayura_sanada



Series: Fanfiction.Net Archive [11]
Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: Childhood, Childhood Friends, Gen or Pre-Slash, M/M, Minor Violence, sorta - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-02
Updated: 2019-12-02
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:48:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21646285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kayura_sanada/pseuds/kayura_sanada
Summary: When Duo finds a messy-haired kid lying hurt in Sister Helen's little rose garden, he takes him into the church to help him. But is this boy the lost rat Duo thinks he is?and its follow-up piece: Heero remembers a boy from his past, one with a braid that seemed to mock him.Previously posted on ffnet on 10/05/10 and 08/07/14, respectively.
Relationships: Duo Maxwell & Heero Yuy, Duo Maxwell/Heero Yuy
Series: Fanfiction.Net Archive [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/867618
Comments: 2
Kudos: 22





	1. Night Eyes

****AC 187** **

* * *

It was hot on the colony again that day, and the church's tunic or cloak or whatever it was called was hot as hell to wear. Duo pulled at the tight neckline once more. At least he was free for a little while. He'd finished helping Sister Helen clean the pews and had grabbed a small bowl of porridge for his reward. Now it was what Father Maxwell and Sister Helen called 'playtime,' a time when he was allowed outside instead of kept in for the purpose of studying. When he asked what playtime was about, though, he was told to 'run around and have fun.' He took it to mean he had to get better at running, which he supposed made a lot of sense.

But today as he stepped outside, he saw the small bunch of roses in the garden Sister Helen kept and walked over to them, ignoring his running duties for a bit. The petals of the flowers were a little brown. It wasn't the prettiness Sister Helen always spoke of when talking about her garden, and he wondered if it was just him. He touched the lowest rose, just barely up to his knee. Were they thinner than usual? Weaker? Maybe they would just keep getting thinner until they just got ripped away by the hot colony winds. Would that make Sister Helen sad?

Duo let go of the flower and looked past the roses in the front, down the small aisle Sister Helen had made. He crouched then, ready to start his run, but stopped when he saw the body lying still on the ground. Dead? And little, too. A rat? How long had that been lying there? Had Sister Helen seen? But no, she'd've cried if she had.

Maybe he should move it. So she wouldn't know.

He walked toward it, sending a quick glance back to make sure the Father and Sister weren't in sight. The corpse looked new. And beaten, too, all purple and blue and brown. There was blood in its hair and on its shirt.

The dead guy really was around his age, still little enough to be just a small pole, or a baby tree – a sapling. He remembered that word because it reminded him of ol' Sappy, named by Solo. Sappy had been an older rat with tears always running through the layers of dirt and muck on his cheeks.

Even though trees didn't cry.

Duo stopped while still slightly out of reach of the body. He should grab something, just to make sure it wasn't a trick. He almost been caught once, and he wasn't about to repeat the same mistake.

So he picked up a little rock and threw it onto the corpse's cheek. It didn't jump up and attack or anything, so Duo figured it was safe enough to get close. He moved slow, though, waiting for the body to leap up, to attack, to grab up at him and drag him off, or maybe for friends to come out of the bushes, and he would be taken away from the safety and happiness of the Maxwell Church. He would fight to the death.

But the body never moved, not even when Duo bent down and poked the cheek with one thin finger, balancing on his toes in case he had to run. This body didn't stink. Was it brand new? But the smell of blood was old and dry. It'd been a while since the thing had bled.

It wasn't a bad looking body. Even with the blood everywhere, Duo could see a bit of the dark brown hair and the hard-set jaw starting to form through the baby fat. There were little wrinkles around the eyes and on the forehead that Duo had seen before on himself, wrinkles that said he'd done a lot of fighting. Sister Helen would say he hadn't had enough fun.

Did the military men kill him? 'Cause kids were supposed to be sent to the church. Probably a cop or a food seller. They always got mad at the kids. It was either run or die.

"Guess you were too slow," Duo said finally, voice soft, and he got up to drag the body out of the garden.

The body groaned.

Duo stumbled back, hopping once to keep his feet underneath him.

The thing was still again, and suddenly Duo remembered the Father talking about some dead guy coming back to life, some guy in that Bible of his, and he hadn't taken the old man seriously because he didn't think it could really happen, but was this body one of those 'Jesus' things?

This time Duo grabbed a broken dust pan Sister Helen used as a towel or a shovel or whatever and held it up in front of him, his body tingling with the need to hit him or run or both. Was it mean to hit a groaning body?

But then his head finally started working again and he gasped out a short, "oh!" before dropping the dust pan and running forward.

"Hey! You still breathin'?" Duo balanced on his toes again and lightly slapped the boy's cheek. He groaned again and squinted like he was trying to open his eyes, but that was it. Must be pretty bad, then, if the rat couldn't move enough to run. Duo looked back to the church. If anyone would know what to do, it would be Sister Helen and Father Maxwell. Duo only knew how to keep a person smiling 'til they died.

So he poked the kid again and finally grabbed his lower shoulders and pulled him toward the back door of the church, past the roses, his back curled and angry with the heaviness. It took a long time, and the fake sun was really hot, and he and the body were both sweating really bad. He wanted to find shade, but the rat came first.

He knocked on the back door and bounced on his feet, waiting.

"No, Duo," Sister Helen said on the other side of the door, "you can't come back in yet."

He shrugged. She always said that if he came back too quick. "Okay. But can this rat kid come in?"

He heard Sister Helen's footsteps coming to the door then and backed up. When it opened, it just missed his face. He grinned. "I found this guy!" he said, pointing to the almost-dead rat.

Sister Helen looked behind him and covered his mouth with both hands. Her eyes went really wide. "Father! Father, come quickly! Oh, dear." She rushed out of the church, touching Duo's shoulder to keep the two of them from bumping into each other, and then she was leaning over the boy and touching him everywhere. A small whiff of girly flowers and yummy sweets filled Duo's nose. "Oh, Duo, where did you find him?"

Duo pointed again, this time out toward Sister Helen's roses, glad he didn't have to hide anything from her. "Out there. He looked dead, but then he made a noise."

She put her fingers to the boy's neck and nodded. "He’s alive."

Father Maxwell came over then, towering above him. "Sister? What is... oh, my. Duo, help me carry him inside. Is he safe to be carried?"

"Yes, it seems so," Sister Helen said, sitting back. "I can't be sure until I check him over. Is Dr. Shelton free?"

Duo watched as the Father shook his head. "He's helping Patty with her daughter's labor."

She nodded and Duo and Father Maxwell came over, getting up and out of their way. "As soon as he's done, we're going to need him to come over here. I don't know how much I can do."

"We'll do all we can. It's in God's hands now."

Duo frowned and looked down at the boy's bloody face. He hoped his God wouldn't come for the dying rat.

* * *

Once the rat was cleaned up, Duo could see a good bit of what Sister Helen called beauty on the boy's features. But Sister Helen always called something easily broken beautiful, so maybe that was the wrong word, though somehow it seemed right. The boy had thick hair, like Duo's, but it was short and seemed to want to tangle in weird directions. It liked to fall into his eyes. Duo made it his duty to push it out of the way when it did.

Sister Helen had found a bullet in the kid's shoulder and bruises all over his legs and waist and chest and _everywhere_ but his face. Duo couldn't explain it, since it made no sense to shoot a rat and not beat his face, but maybe things had changed, or maybe this guy had been dumb enough or desperate enough to steal from the shop owners with the dangerous faces.

Had this rat been alone on the streets?

Duo had to go to school for the next couple of days, but every time he came back, he went and sat with the rat and talked to him, even though the boy still hadn't woken up. The doctor came and went, saying he'd done everything he could – adult speak that meant the kid was going to die – and no matter how the doctor poked the boy's bruises, he didn't wake. The doctor said he was probably 'staying unconscious to recuperate.' Duo had asked Sister Helen what that had meant, and she'd said it meant the rat was sleeping to try to get better. That didn't make much sense to Duo; staying asleep would get someone killed. And Father Maxwell just kept talking about his Mercy God. The Father talking about his Mercy God was another bad thing.

Sister Helen was worried about a bump on the rat's head, too. Duo knew about bumps on the head. One time, Hole Face took a bump to the head. He’d been dead by morning.

Father Maxwell and Sister Helen let him eat his dinner away from the table for the first time ever, too, just because he said he wanted to stay by the rat's side. Sister Helen called him sweet. He was even allowed to sleep on the floor by the little mattress Sister Helen had gotten out for the rat. It was like the holidays Sister Helen talked about. His only chore was to help care for the rat.

The second night came just like the first, with Father Maxwell and Sister Helen going to sleep and telling Duo to get some rest, too. But Duo stayed up, hoping maybe he would see the rat differently when the lights weren't on anymore. It failed. He didn't remember this rat, and he hadn't been off the streets long. Was he a new orphan? Had this boy been abandoned here? It happened sometimes. Duo almost felt like he should say he was sorry. He'd once been the leader of the last rats, back after Solo had died. And when they'd all been taken to the church, Duo had made sure he was around to help his rats find safe homes. Seeing this guy made him feel like he'd messed up as the leader.

The feeling made his chest hurt.

* * *

The night passed slow, like the one before it, with the rat lying dead still on the mattress. Sister Helen had taught Duo how to feel for the rat's heart after Duo had come in crying, saying he couldn't see the rat's body moving. He felt for it now and then, touching the rat's wrist. Otherwise he spent his time looking out the small window above the couch. The colony's night sky didn't have the stars Sister Helen spoke of; just this weird dark blue, almost black color. It was more blue than black tonight.

The rat was just laying there breathing. He would wake up in a lot of pain from not moving, if he woke up at all. But the rat wanted to stay still and quiet, and Duo could understand that. Even when a rat slept, the need to not give away his hidey-hole was strong enough to keep the rat still. Especially when hurt. Duo rocked back, his hands tight around his legs and his head on his knees. When a rat was hurt, he couldn't run as fast, and speed was everything.

He rocked forward, onto his feet, and stood. The fake moon was coming closer to the window, throwing a weird white circle of light onto the boy's face. Were those lips always frowning? Did the rat ever have someone to smile with? If he did, Duo thought it would be a very pretty smile. Like when the light reflected off a puddle of oil. Really bright and colorful.

But more than anything, he wanted to know what color those eyes were.

He grabbed the cloth on the kid's head, thinking to wet it, and squeaked as a small hand grabbed his wrist hard enough to crush the bones. Duo pulled against the hold and raised his other hand to scratch and hit, but the rat was already rolling off the mattress, pushing Duo until he lost his feet from underneath him. The boy let go of Duo's wrist as he fell and glared down.

Duo scooted back and flipped over until his feet were back beneath him. He wanted to run, but Sister Helen and Father Maxwell were sleeping upstairs and he couldn't just leave them alone without someone to help them. Sister Helen said he _protected_. He was a protector. He had to protect them.

Duo looked up, one hand on the floor still, but though he could see the rat's form outlined, he couldn't see his eyes. The fake moon was at the boy's back. And the boy's body said he was going to fight, then run. The stance Duo himself got when trapped in an alley with no escape. Duo wouldn't get the chance to see those eyes.

"Y'know we ain' gunna hurt ya, righ'?" Duo said, letting himself use the street talk Sister Helen had tried to get rid of. "Yer in a church, one o' dem ol' folk whine houses. No one here but me an' the preach." Duo felt it best to keep quiet about Sister Helen, a woman young enough to run after a running rat. "We fixed ya."

Duo had his hands up so it looked like he was giving up, but he was ready to hit and grab if he had to. He didn't _want_ to hurt the rat, but wants were for the rich.

"What do you want with me?" the boy asked, and Duo jumped. Of course the voice had to be pretty, too, all serious and strong, like a leader. But that voice was a rich voice, with rich speak. This kid was no rat – not unless he got on the streets only a little while ago. Maybe that was it? But then what made the rich people die? And why was he here on L2?

"I don' want nuthin'," Duo said, knowing better than to change the way he spoke now. "Ya got trashed, though, kid, an' good. We got food here, an' a place ta close yer eyes. Da streets don' got dat."

The kid didn't untense at all. If anything, he just got madder. "Where is he?"

Okay, Duo was already getting mad. "Ya was alone, brat," he said, and lifted his chin. Why had he been worried about this guy? He didn't even know the rules of the streets! The idiot was gonna get himself killed, and if he didn't know the rules, Duo wouldn't be able to save him. Duo couldn't protect those who didn't protect themselves. "Ya can run 'gain if'n ya want, but ya'll get yer stupid arse killed, an' ta hell if'n I'm gunna save ya twice. Yer lucky fer yer second chance, idjit." Duo tilted his head to the side and pointed to the hallway behind him. "If'n ya don' bleed out on the way, ya can grab some life – food – in da back room. We got 'nuff fer now."

The boy didn't seem ready to move quite yet, still in that fighting stance of his, and Duo got bored. With a snort, he walked out of the room, letting the boy get a view of his back. He flipped his braid, just in case the stupid ass hadn't gotten the insult.

The boy didn't follow. He didn't even move. Duo shrugged and went to the kitchen, anyway. It was true that Duo wasn't able to save idjits, but that didn't mean he didn't _feel_ like he had to save the ass. And whether the rat was smart or not – whether the rat was one of _his_ or not – needing food so bad he would chance getting shot was something Duo knew very well. He'd been crazy enough to try to steal from the Alliance, after all.

Maybe this kid had tried that, too?

Now Duo was feeling guilty again.

He grabbed some bread and a thick slice of cheese and carried them back to the room. The kid was holding a big wooden cross with the Jesus ghost on it, the one that had been on the wall a little while ago, and he held it just the adults held their bats. Duo ignored the danger and walked forward, holding the food in front of him. "Yer gunna run, righ'? Yer rat may be dead, but ya gotta look, righ'?" Duo shook the food in his hands. "Eat 'n' save some fer yer friend if'n he's still livin'. Ya can foreva come back, though." The boy looked down at the food like he'd never seen it before. "No pills er drink. 'Course, ya don' gotta b'lieve me." Duo shrugged. "Ya gunna take it er wha'?"

The boy shook his head. "No."

Duo nodded. It made sense; someone wanting to give a rat food was dangerous to take, and someone saying it was safe was even worse. "Fine." Duo bit into the bread and the cheese and then handed them to the boy, anyway; the rat was surprised enough to drop his Jesus-cross-bat and make a grab. "I'll live 'n' yuh'll live. It won' kill ya, bu' don' eat if'n ya don' wanna. Ya gotta go, I gotcha, bu' ya gotta live, too, righ'?"

The boy kept looking at the food. He finally looked back up at Duo, his back still to the fake moon. Duo stuck his tongue out just enough for the boy to see the food on it, then gulped the food down and stuck it out again. The boy just turned from Duo, toward the door.

"Ya gotta be careful on dese streets," Duo said as good-bye, running until he was in front of the rat, leading him forward. "Stay clear o' da left roads 'n' steal from the apple sella furst. Stick ta da main roads 'less ya hear sum'in', got it?"

The boy only humphed.

Duo opened the front door then and turned. Finally he saw the boy's eyes. He almost jumped. They were the clearest blue he'd ever seen, all deep and dark like the broken night sky. He grinned. "Ya take care, 'n' if'n yer rat's dead, ya come back. Make sure ta rest warm in da mornin'. Ol' buildin' back three streets from the lady house shuld do't. 'N' know ya ain' gunna be runnin' too fast."

The boy didn't say anything back, but Duo watched him take a bite out of the bread, those big, bright eyes staying on Duo the whole time. Then the boy tilted his head, a quiet thanks, Duo guessed, and Duo grinned again for it.

Then the boy left through the door and walked into the darkness, and Duo had the strangest feeling that he shouldn't have let the boy go.

* * *

****AC 191** **

* * *

Gunfire.

So there really was a battle, huh?

Duo threw a rock at the electric fence and grinned as it bounced harmlessly off. All right. It was go time.

He jumped up and climbed the fence, jumping down and moving to the back of an Alliance warehouse. Would the food be so close? He doubted it. The only good luck he ever had was the luck to outlive the world.

The gunfire was still close to the front of the Alliance base, but Duo had seen people to the sides, had heard movement a good ways behind him. The enemy would be surrounding the Alliance as best they could.

And while they did, Duo would hit the mother-load.

A small stash of weapons was hidden in that first warehouse, back behind a bunch of cement blocks and tools and a small, hidden folder of what Duo could barely read as plans for something, written in white on blue paper. Or at least there were numbers and a bunch of labels for... some weapon-type thing, maybe? It looked like a little stick, but it would become a sword. Duo remembered that word from Sister Helen's Bible, that the pen was mightier – that meant stronger – stronger than the sword.

Sister Helen's God was an idiot.

Duo ignored it all as the sounds of battle came closer. He looked around the dark room one last time and slid to the door, ready to check the next warehouse. He could see the rebels from the back, most of them looking no better off than himself. He kept to the side of the warehouse and slid around to the side of shadows, hiding him from the fake moon of L2, even brighter than it had been before. The night was permanently stuck on the color of that rat's eyes.

The next two warehouses were just as useless as the first, and Duo's sneaking became more necessary. Gunshots popped through the air around him as he moved, one whizzing past him to thud into the chest of a rebel two meters from Duo's spot. The moon was almost full, too bright for an attack, but Duo wasn't the leader and if the rebels wanted to be stupid, Duo would simply have to work fast.

The fourth building he entered was smaller, placed closer to the center of the base. It had decorations, some dumb-looking piece of silver hanging from the edge of the bed. Whoever the little building belonged to, he had a huge cot and a big carrying bag and ho and hello, there was a pack of credits hidden in a pocket of the thing, sewn shut. Duo ripped into it, grabbed the money, tucked it away, and made to leave.

Someone fired a gun just outside the door.

Duo froze. These buildings didn't have several exits, one of many dangers he'd had to ignore for food. Whoever was outside the door could very easily come inside and spot him. There weren't that many places to hide, even less that weren't obvious and stupid. The room offered no real weapon, either. Duo hunched into a corner and waited for the worst.

The door to the small building did indeed open, and through the darkness Duo could see long, lean arms and the gray of a pistol. He held his breath before he gave himself away with a gasp, then slowly breathed out. He ordered his heartbeat to calm down.

The gun owner walked inside, making a quick sweep with his weapon before pausing just inside the door.

The outline through from outside was weak, but it was the darkness itself that made Duo blink, made his jaw almost drop. That hair was thick and crazy wild. The body was taller, maybe, and definitely leaner. And Duo couldn't see his eyes. He couldn't know for sure.

But was it possible that he was looking at the lost rat from his days at the church?

The boy made a tsking noise and held his left wrist to his face. "No blueprints." Then he lowered his hand. "Are you going to move or just keep hiding?"

Duo almost jumped. His heart was in his throat. "I'm on the search," he said, thankful that the kid hadn't thought him enough of a danger to keep his mouth shut about these blueprint things.

"Then search," the boy said, and with that he walked out, pausing at the door. "If I catch you again, I'll kill you."

Duo watched the boy leave with a dry throat. He didn't doubt the words.

He stared at the door for a moment, listening once again for the shouts and screams and booms of battle. He couldn't be sure if that was the same voice. It was having the same trouble as his own; a deepening, rough kind of choking voice that messed up, going high and low and breaking. Maybe they both had the same sickness.

Well, he wouldn't worry about it. He had to move, maybe search a bit more, but he was going to be a lot more careful about where he would search.

So he slipped out of the building and back through the shadows, through the sleep-buildings the Alliance called barracks and running to the mess hall, the place they held food. He would just grab anything and run now.

He went around the building, losing his hearing for a time from something someone threw, something that made Duo hear a long squealing sort of noise, and he found himself blind, too, and stood still as he could, not even breathing, until he could hear and see and the people who had been fighting around him were all dead. He left them and went in through the back door.

His eyes widened as he stepped inside, past the counters and sinks and straight to the cabinets. The amount of food was insane! Duo grabbed as much as he could, stuffing all the bread and crackers and just everything he could find, even stuff he couldn't name, down his shirt and in the weak waistband of his ripped and dirty pants. He kept his hands free, even at the loss of more food, worried that he would need them.

The front door of the mess hall, past the door keeping the food from the tables, opened and gunfire spat out and two Alliance soldiers entered, shooting until they were well inside. Duo slunk to the wall and peeked around. The two men hurried behind some counter and huddled against the wood.

Then those doors slammed shut and Duo had an 'oh hell' moment, remembering that boy's warning and wondering if he would even get that chance again. Maybe his stealth skills were much more horrible than he'd believed. He felt like he was just waiting to be found as he edged behind a counter and headed for the back exit.

"Reloading," one man said, and Duo heard clicks of metal on metal.

"Fuckin' hell, where are these bastards comin' from?" the other man said. Duo took a moment to glance at them from the corner of his eyes. "They're fuckin' _good_."

The other grunted. Duo watched their shadowed forms for a moment longer, just until he was sure they were still looking to the front. Then he snuck his way past the stoves and the refrigerator – full of useless food that would soon rot – and then out one of the back windows, already broken from earlier gunfire, too afraid of the door and the sounds others in the past had made at the worst times.

He wanted to catch his breath, but there was more fighting going on around him. Hopping off the window to the ground almost made him fall, since his landing wasn't on dirt but instead a dead person. Duo had to roll to keep his feet, pushing him out of the shadows into the bright light of the fake moon. He squished some of his precious food and got dirt in a wound from the window's broken glass.

One gunshot seemed awful close, and Duo splayed himself to the ground so he could get safely back to the shadows.

He dog-walked until he was beside the body again, about to pull himself back to his feet when another bullet flew past his ear. Someone behind him shouted.

When he looked up, he held his breath and swallowed his gasp. The boy was in front of him, holding that pistol out again. "Have you found them yet?" the boy asked.

Duo stood slowly, knowing he couldn't run from that pistol. In the shadows, he still couldn't see those eyes, and not being able to see them just made him even more curious. "No," he answered, and he hoped with everything he was that the boy didn't notice the food he had, squished but still edible, in his shirt and pockets. "I'm heading to the back now," he added, thinking to explain where he would be just in case he was caught a third time.

The boy looked down, and Duo stiffened as those eyes caught on Duo's chest and stomach, and Duo thought he was screwed until he saw that the boy's eyes were on his braid, dangling down one side of his chest from his crawling around.

Duo wished he could see those eyes. _Was_ it the same boy? Why was he fighting in a battle? Had the boy decided that the extra danger was worth the constant food supply? Maybe he was right; all this would be a lot easier with a weapon.

But in the end the boy simply shooed him off again, this time waiting for Duo to leave first. Weaponless as he was, Duo had no choice but to slide back into the darkness with those shadowed eyes following him. He swore then that he would get better, a thousand times better, until he could sneak up on that messy-haired boy and find out once and for all if it was his lost rat, the one he had once felt that he should never let go. And when he did find that night-eyes boy, he would be good enough that he would be able to keep the boy in his sights always.

He went back into that first warehouse before he escaped and left the hidden folder of blue-papered weapon plans by the mess hall, on the body he'd tripped over. He gained a bullet across his upper left leg for his trouble.

Then he disappeared.

* * *

****AC 195** **

* * *

The chance had finally come.

Duo let the tide carry him the rest of the way, a part of his mind gibbering with glee. That part of his mind had ignored the girl in danger and through the vid had focused on that bunch of messy hair.

He'd sunk his 'Scythe and swum to the military dock before his common sense could tell him to stop.

After all, Night-Eyes was probably long dead.

He grabbed the dock leg and hoisted himself over the edge. He'd done it. Whether this was the same one who had caught him twice that night during the rebels' one and only successful attack, he couldn't be sure, but in any case, the boy hadn't sensed his presence yet. The idiot was staring at the girl, and his stance said he was going to attack.

Duo unhooked his gun from its waterproof holster and – hesitated. He was just going to shoot the messy-haired boy?

But that boy was pulling out his gun and he was gonna kill a girl and even if it was the boy he remembered, Duo wasn't gonna let it happen.

Besides, dammit, Night-Eyes was long dead!

Duo must have pulled the trigger at the same moment the guy finally realized he was there, because he had started turning by the time the bullet got his arm.

The teen rolled and sat up and Duo cursed himself for not going for the kill shot. And of course the girl screamed.

The guy caught his balance in an instant, his movements light, quick, practiced. Then he turned to glare at Duo.

Night eyes.

Duo almost faltered where he stood, almost missed the man's dive for his gun. Duo's body moved on instinct, and he knew he said something but he couldn't think of what. His eyes devoured the boy in front of him. Was it him? Could it be?

Yes. Yes, it was. Those eyes were too rare, too exotic to match every messy-haired kid his age in the system. That was him. Even as the stupid woman jumped in front of Night-Eyes, even as he found himself wondering what in hell was wrong with the blond, he stood stupidly, until the boy ran and jumped up onto the damn torpedoes and Duo couldn't make himself aim for a kill shot and the bastard could easily dodge Duo's careful aim.

It was too fast. All of it was just too fast, and now his mission was in jeopardy, his 'Scythe was gone, and the boy was in the water. And he knew about Gundams. Who _was_ Night-Eyes?

The woman was moving toward the man and ignored Duo completely. At least her psychotic desire to keep her would-be killer alive would get her to Night-Eyes' side and Night-Eyes to safety. He didn't need to save his enemy. Not unless the girl was even dumber than he thought and took Night-Eyes to the military.

Duo sighed loudly as he slid back into the water and heard her talk to herself – planning to take Night-Eyes to the Alliance hospital. Son of a bitch.

Shinigami, was he stupid. A dumbass. This guy may have just destroyed Deathscythe, and he was going to go and save him. How fucking stupid was that?

Duo had a duty to his Deathscythe, but immediately afterwards, he would find Night-Eyes again. And this time he wasn't letting the man out of his sight.

Never again.


	2. The Braided Boy

Heero had forgotten about him.

No, that wasn't quite true. He'd _chosen_ to forget about him. Before J's retraining, he had met a boy who hadn't been intimidated by him. The boy had lifted his chin at the hard threats he'd made and shoved them straight back in his face. He remembered waking up in an unknown location, walls pressed in on him when before he'd been on the streets, running, escaping pursuit as Odin took the officers in another direction despite Heero saying he would be fine. He remembered how dark it had been, yet how light; the colony he'd been on – L2 – had been in a poor state.

He'd woken, crushed a wrist in his grip, and stared out into the dark, up into the face of someone his own age. He'd been ready to scare the kid off, like all kids scared when they were near him, but this one didn't. This one got smart with him, glared at him, flipped his braid in Heero's face as if mocking him.

He'd never forgotten the way that tail had flounced as the kid had left the room. He'd been so stunned he'd failed to escape, and the boy had returned and – and offered him food.

And then, years later, he'd met someone he hadn't known on a battlefield, and he'd let that person go because he had a braid just like the boy's, and he couldn't make himself get rid of him. That weakness had given him the blueprints he'd needed. Perhaps braids on boys were a symbol of luck for him.

There was no room for emotions in a mission. No room for a person's feelings. J had drilled that in him when he'd failed to protect the little girl. But still, he'd wanted to protect the memory of that ridiculous boy. And so he'd locked it away, safely away where no one could touch it. And so he'd forgotten.

* * *

When he saw the monitor in his 'hospital room' flicker on, saw that fool in the hat with his finger over his lips and that smirk on his face, something shuddered in his brain. He turned away, tried to remember. The man was wearing a cap, hiding his face – most likely to assist his anonymity as he broke into the Alliance building. It helped obscure him. But Heero was positive there was something about the boy that he remembered. What was it?

He pondered it as the hospital fell into chaos, then more closely as the boy came up to him and started looking foolishly for something to cut his restraints with. The idiot had actually entered the facility without something to remove restraints. Inconceivable.

Yet he had to admit that without the boy's distractions, he would never have gotten even as far as ripping them off. He did so as he looked into those odd eyes – so strangely blue as to appear purple, which he was certain he would remember if he'd seen them before – and the pale, pale skin that showed the boy usually moved at night. So why come during the day?

The boy gave him a parachute and hurried Heero forward, toward a wall, and pulled out a small grenade, and Heero got a flash of brown. A tail? A braid. A braid? On a guy? It sent alarm bells off in his mind. He covered his face as smoke and plaster and detritus flew through the air. The boy was already jumping, that braid of his flying through the air as he pulled out his hoverstick and left Heero to jump, to complete the second part of his mission and cover the tracks left by allowing his enemy to see his face.

It was an odd last thing to see. The braid was like a tail, almost as if it had a mind of its own. It almost seemed to mock him.

That would be an odd last thought to have.

He heard the man screaming above him. He blanked out the words. The voice almost sounded familiar, even though he knew he'd never heard it before. Something about the texture, the tone – yes, the accent. He'd heard someone with that accent before.

 _The kid actually snorted at him, as if his battle stance was a joke. He turned away, toward the door, turned his back on him in the stupidest move he had ever seen – and then the boy flicked his braid, right in front of his face, and he realized that the boy was insulting him._ Insulting _him, as if the boy couldn't be bothered to take his threat seriously. As if, to him, it wasn't a threat at all._

_Over twenty people dead at his hand, and this boy couldn't care less._

Heero's eyes snapped open. _The braid!_ It was the same. He was sure of it. How many men had brown, braided hair down to their ass? It was _him!_ The boy who wasn't afraid of him!

He pulled the string of the parachute. Mission be damned. He wanted to speak with that boy. He wanted to know why he wasn't afraid. Who he was. Where he came from.

Until he understood the person who looked at him with disdain instead of distrust, he couldn't afford to die.


End file.
